Peace—
in a temple of power
one god calls himself a leader
another calls himself the leader
other gods chime in
proclaiming their godliness
all these gods declare war to achieve peace
with fists clenched
they argue over who merits peace
and whom to offer as a sacrifice
all while children whisper prayers
to a god they wonder still listens
in a glass house
divine messengers rise
to shape destiny
an absence of dissent
while scrolling past screaming faces
and self-flagellating devotees
who keep praying to the same gods
all these gods—
god of ruthless destruction
god of justification
god of hidden agendas
god of smugness
god of contradictions
god of endless conflict
god of …
all these gods—
would not sacrifice an eye
to gain wisdom
yet they promise peace
while twisting its name
a slogan carved above the door
kingdoms rise and fall
architects cannot stop glaciers from melting
where are the goddesses
to place people at the centre
to build trust
to hold two truths at once—
water is rising
harmony is fragile
who speaks for peace?
PS: I started writing this poem in 2024 during National Poetry Writing Month. It was a response to the #WriteRight prompts, created by Rajani Radhakrishnan on her blog Thotpurge, reflecting current times.
I didn’t share it then. It was unfinished—still unfinished, and it may never be finished—and I’m still living inside the question of peace.
I’m sharing it now because I’ve stopped asking what art can do in times like these. This is simply an act of processing, witnessing, remembering, and affirming our humanity.
PPS. Photo by Katarzyna Pypla on Unsplash
